


Y'know I Like to Touch

by HurricanesatDawn



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dancing, M/M, Mild Voyeurism, clubs, sex in restrooms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 04:50:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HurricanesatDawn/pseuds/HurricanesatDawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Of course you’re already hard, pet. It’s all a question of how long your mind stays in control of your body, and not the other way around. It’s never taken much to make you lose that precious grip you have over your impulses. And do you feel that? me? I’m not even turned on. So, do you think I could have you losing control, ready to writhe and beg me to go with you willing, in say...ten minutes? five?"</p>
<p>"...seven. Tops. I've been able t'get you up quicker'n that before."</p>
<p>[summary adapted from the tag conversation that prompted it]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Y'know I Like to Touch

The music pounds into his ears, seeming to resonate through his very skin, and Jim bites his lip. He's facing away from Sebastian, so the man can't see his face, and he doesn't fight it so hard.

"Challenge accepted," he murmurs, the words just loud enough for Sebastian to catch over the beat. Or maybe he doesn't, but it fails to matter.

"Fu _ck,"_  he groans, the noise rumbling through his body, and at the very least, Sebastian can feel the vibration as it curls through his body. His back, previously only faintly touching Sebastian's front, digs in closer, until their bodies meld together perfectly. It's like they're made to rock together like this.

He lets the music drift through his body, until he's moving in time to the beat, head thrown back, neck arching to make the veins pop, and a hand curling around Sebastian's. The man's body is hot against his, his muscles hard and unforgiving, and it feels delicious just to press against him.

His back curves, spine moving to entice perfectly, and his arse is pressed just right into the center of Sebastian's hips. He can feel how hard the man is, cock throbbing beneath layers of too tight clothing, and Sebastian instinctively grinds into him.

"C'm _on,"_  he moans, unable to deny the way his lips turn up into a smirk, fingers scratching into the hair along the upper part of Sebastian's neck. "Don't you wanna fuck me?"

"Y'lil' cunt," is growled into his ear, teeth dragging down along his neck, and he laughs.

"Don't even try to deny that you're-" he hisses, cut off by Sebastian driving teeth into his neck, the spot one of his more sensitive ones, and his eyes flutter shut. "-enjoying this," he finishes, mouth open.

It feels good, fantastic, even, and Sebastian releases the skin to nuzzle against his neck, his scruff burning, even as his hands soothe their way down Jim's hips.

"And you really shouldn't talk to me like that," he adds, at a purr, and Sebastian's chuckle rocks through his body.

"I can talk t'you-" he starts to say, fingers digging into the soft skin along Jim's belly, "-however the _fuck_ I wan'." One hand slips under his shirt, sliding to make it ride up, and he pinches. "'Cause right here, James?" The man's cock seems to harden somehow even more as he pulls Jim back into a heavy thrust. "You're in my territory tonight."

"True," he arches, licking too dry lips. Exactly four minutes have passed, according to his internal clock. "That's the funny thing, isn't it," it's not a question, and he gasps again, tilting his head to catch Sebastian's lips in a quick, sloppy kiss. "You could," he whispers into the man's mouth, "fuck me right here on this floor if you wanted... And I...couldn't _...wouldn't_  stop you.

"Isn't that-" he drags his tongue across the roof of Sebastian's open mouth, sucking his lip between teeth, nibbling on it for a second before the release. "Precious?" he finishes.

"Fuck," and now both hands are pressed to bare skin, one sliding lower, under the fabric of Jim's trousers, until he's cupping his undeniably hard cock through his pants. "You are-" but he doesn't finish, squeezing instead.

"I am?" Jim moans, and by now, he can't hear the music anymore, just the beating of their hearts. The people around them hardly matter, only noticed on the peripheral, the part of his mind that never stops watching for danger, and he doesn't care that some of them are staring.

He knows it's a turn on for Sebastian, in some ways, to do this to Jim like they are now, and he lets out a very deliberate whimper. "Are you going to-" he slows down the words, swallowing at the wet lips sucking their way down his neck. "-fuck me anytime soon?"

"D'pends," and Sebastian laughs almost cruelly in his ear. He can feel it, feel the way the man snaps behind him, and the last of his control is gone. He's no longer waiting for the word to be given, to be told that he can drag Jim away and fuck him.

He doesn't care anymore, and the signs from his boss' body are enough, giving him what little he cares about anymore.

"Now shuddup," he orders, and it makes Jim laugh more than anything. The hand slips inside his pants this time, gripping the bare length of his cock, and he groans, twitching into the hand.

"'Bastian, did I say that you could..."

"No." The man bites at his ear, and he feels a tiny trickle of blood from somewhere. He doesn't say anything more, and maybe it's because he doesn't actually have the coherence left for it. 

But with one hand, he presses Jim's hips as far back into his as he can, rubbing his cock along the crease of his tight trousers; and with the other, he forces his hand to move more or less evenly along the length. It's awkward, his hand hardly fits, but that almost seems to heighten the pleasure in it.

They don't care that they're being watched, that people are judging them, lusting after them; because no one can touch them here. They're in no danger of getting thrown out or even stopped.

He's free to turn Jim into as much of a mewling mess as he possibly can, as the man melts into him, their bodies in perfect sync.

It doesn't seem to matter how long it takes for Jim to come, Sebastian in only vague hurry, wanting to make the man under his grip absolutely lose it; and he bites harshly at Jim's neck. He's careful, marking him just enough that he'll be angered later, and have to work to cover it, but not so much that he'll cut Sebastian off for a while.

What anger he'll incite is worth it, and still will be later.

Jim finally comes, a wet cry against his cheek, hips pumping forward into the shock of it, spilling carelessly into his trousers. It leaks around Sebastian hands, through the cracks of his fingers, and he bites down into another bruise, dragging his hand up.

"Suck," he orders, digging two of his fingers between Jim's lips. The man's mouth opens, and he moans, letting the fingers slather his own semen across his tongue. He licks at it, slurping around the fingers, still rocking against Sebastian's thrusts.

It's not the most pleasant of tastes, but he doesn't care. Sebastian's fingers are something he's always loved to suck on, and he gets to now, swirling around them as if they're a particularly delicious cock.

"Jesus fuck," Sebastian breathes into his ear. "You're jes'- jes'  _gaggin' for it,_  aren' ya?" he doesn't give Jim room for a reply, making him lick the length of his hand to get it all off, before he finally lets him go.

His hands slide back down, wiping the saliva off on Jim's already ruined shirt, and he tugs the man away, off the floor, and to the nearest fucking exit he can find.

He ends up dragging Jim down one of the corridors, not to one of the back rooms, but an unoccupied restroom instead. It’s shut down, something wrong with the structure, and no one’s allowed in there, strictly speaking, but he pushes Jim through the door anyway.

It swings shut behind them, and Jim’s back goes back the first wall upon which he comes, greedily capturing a belated kiss from the man’s lips. Jim’s hands move to his neck again, to his hair, slipping through it as he moans and sucks on Sebastian’s tongue, making him growl low in his throat.

They can both taste it, the remnants of Jim’s semen across his tongue, and it makes Sebastian shove him again, still incredibly erect in his trousers, and nowhere near done with the man against him.

_“Say it,”_  Jim hisses in his ear, making his teeth clench together.

“Fuck you,” with that, he drifts away from Jim’s lips, making a path down his jaw to ghost over the bruises and bite marks he left there before.

“Not quite. Say it, ‘Bastian.  _Say. It.”_

“Fine,” he growls, rocking unnecessarily hard against the no doubt over sensitised prick, and whatever else Jim was going to say is lost in the tremor that’s wracked through his body. “You win,” he presses his forehead against the wall behind Jim’s shoulder, eyes shut. “You fuckin’- I’m  _fuckin’ yours, Jim._

“You- I-  _oh, fuck you._  You’re an annoying lil' _twat,_ but ya' got t'me.”

“And?” Jim arches, nails scratching painful red lines through the fabric of Sebastian’s shirt.

He laughs, mad sounding as he pulls back to turn Jim around, and shove him face first against the wall. He tears at the top, ripping through the shirt, and it falls to crumpled pieces from his shoulders, leaving his chest entirely bare. 

“I got you in seven minutes exactly,” Jim recites almost dutifully, as he braces himself on his hands, wiggling his arse back. 

“Fuck, _I know,”_ he groans into Jim’s neck, palming at the still covered globes of the man’s arse. “Dry or-”

“Lube,” Jim smirks, turning his head so he can look into Sebastian’s eyes. “Front left pocket,” he murmurs.

“God, you- you fuckin'  _planned this_ , didn’ ya?” he doesn’t hesitate, slipping a hand into the tight pocket of Jim’s trousers, jerking them down and out of the way while he’s at it. Inside is a tiny little tube of lubricant. Flavourless, scentless, and just enough for one solid fuck.

"Was a boy scout,  _clearly."_

"Oh, fuck off," roughly smacking Jim across the arse, he uncaps it, _"you're_   _not a 'Mercun."_

"Close enough. C'mon," the slap made him moan, and he shakes his arse tantalisingly  making the trousers slip further down his thighs. "You have ten seconds to get  _something_  into me before I walk away."

"How's 'bout _you-"_ three fingers go in, the other hand moving to cup Jim's thigh, jerking his knee into the air, and somehow pressing it awkwardly to the wall to open him up. "-stop fuckin'  _talkin'._  You're spoilin' the fuckin' _mood,_ you lil'  _cunt."_

“Call me that again and-” Jim starts to growl, cut off by Sebastian’s fingers suddenly curling, twisting deliberately, in the most cruel fashion, against his prostate. The sound he lets out is like a bellow, the pleasure from it painful sounding as it wrecks his body.

“An’  _what?”_  he does it again, and again, until Jim’s body is shaking, seeming to melt into the wall as his brain threatens to close down completely. “Y'were sayin' somethin'?” Sebastian taunts him, and he wants to brush the hair away from Jim’s face, kiss and lick the sweat, instead just nuzzling along it.

“Get off you hi- high fucking horse, and fuck me already.”

“What'd I say?  _Patience, patience.”_

“Dear fucking god, Sebastian,” and Jim barks laughter, shoving back against Sebastian’s hand, clenching around his fingers. “I will leave.” He’s collected himself now, more or less, and though his muscles feel like goo in his body, he could pick himself up enough to leave if he wanted.

_“Cunt,”_  Sebastian repeats, fingers slipping free  _—_ _which draws a deliberate groan from Jim’s throat _—__  and he tries to balance things, giving up his hold on Jim’s thigh in favour of jerking open his flies to take out his cock and slick it up.

It’s tempting to take off his own shirt, to press his bare chest to Jim’s back, letting their sweat slick them, but he squashes the urge. He only sheds his trousers and pants, pressing himself immediately to Jim’s mostly naked body, relishing the way the man melts against him. “Y'gonna be good f'me?” he asks, even though it’s a stupid question, and he already knows the answer.

He presses his forehead to Jim’s sticky shoulder, leaning himself up, but doing no more than teasing the rim of his stretched hole.

_“I,”_  Jim declares, breathily, “haven’t been good a day in my life. I’m not about to-” he clenches his teeth, exhaling heavily, “-start now, for you.”

“Good ‘nough,” and he presses forward, the laugh under his breath shifting to a pleasured moan. Jim feels tight under him, only just prepared enough to keep from tearing him  _—_ _and thus ruining him for fucking in the near future _—__  and he has to stop once he’s fully in, gasping in air to brace himself.

_“Fuck.”_  With intended force, he pushes Jim forward, more against the wall, so he has no proper leverage, and jerks his head painfully to the side. He groans into his boss’ neck, using his hands to hold the man’s hips in place, so he can thrust as he pleases in and out, picking up the pace as the rhythm continues to the sound of the bass resonating through the club.

Jim’s body is incredibly warm under him, like he’s been melded just for Sebastian’s enjoyment, and it’s easy to pretend that he’s the only one Jim has had, that the man is tight because he doesn’t get fucked often. Hell, that Jim never comes home fucked sloppily open by other men.

He laves his tongue along the Jim’s sweaty face finally, not caring about the way hair threatens to get into his mouth, clawing at his hips. They must be bleeding, at least a little bit, by how wet they feel under his fingers. It’s not just perspiration, and that suits him, excites him.

“So, lil’ cunt,” he grunts out, kissing Jim’s cheek with unexpected tenderness, and the man gasps under him, about to speak, but all that comes out is a mesh of syllables that he can’t quite make out  _—_ _not that he wants to make them out _—__  when the next thrust hits his prostate perfectly.

It makes him laugh, loving his ability to fuck Jim speechless, and he continues undeterred, fingers near vicious along the man’s tender, slightly flabby abdomen. “Still wanna run off an’ find some twink t’fuck?”

“Oh, I-  _I dunno,”_  he can actually hear the grin in Jim’s words, and he has to close his eyes, trying to split the man deeper with his cock. “I’ll be honest,” he says it like he’s imparting some great secret. “I’ve had better.”

“You lil’ fucker.” He knows Jim is just riling him up. It’s as obvious as the day he was born, but something about the words still makes his blood boil, and he hooks around Jim’s body, jerking him away from the wall with a distinct gruffness. “Really?” he growls, his cock never shaking from the home it’s made in Jim’s body as he shoves as much as walks the man away, bending him over the sink.

“Better 'an this?” he has to ask, working himself back in at the better angle, with Jim clawing at the upper part of the sink to get higher. He slows it down, after a couple of thrusts, until Jim catches his breath, simply rocking in a lazy, circular movement, positioned to grind into the man’s little nub.

Soon enough, it sounds like Jim can’t breath, gasping like a fish out of water, and he breathes it in from his skin, sucking a delicious bite from the center of Jim’s shoulders. “Better ‘an this?” he repeats, a hand sliding around, ignoring Jim’s cock, and going straight for one of the man’s nipples.

He twists it, digging in his nails, and Jim shouts.

“Could be- could be better,” Jim forces out on a delay, but it lacks any sort of heat, and Sebastian rolls his eyes. He pulls back, until he’s all the way out, his cock suddenly open to the air around them, just brushing it around the crack of Jim’s arse.

“Could it?” he whispers, right in Jim’s ear. He has to breathe in quickly  _—_ _inhaling Jim’s scent _—__  and then out again before he can control himself enough to not give up his point and just forget that Jim’s an actual person, not just a toy to be fucked right now. “I dunno,” he purrs, mimicking the way Jim does it. “Your complaints are soundin' a lil'...” he trails away, and Jim’s back arches, spine bending, and arse moving further out to Sebastian.  _“Empty,”_  he finishes, a throaty chuckle.

He gets both his hands on Jim’s chest now, thumb and forefinger around each nipple, twisting them lightly  _—_ _just a tease._

“Y’don’  _soun’_  like y’wanna leave right now, t’be honest,” and he rests his forehead down again, using the pressure to push Jim’s stomach further down onto the cold surface. “But I coul' be-” he cuts himself off, cramming himself in until Jim’s body has completely closed around his cock once again. His fingers twist, perfectly timed, and this time, Jim can’t keep the scream inside him.

It vibrates through the room, and Jim is sobbing, rocking back, and away at the same time, crying out with each hard, backbreaking thrust. He doesn’t even care anymore if they’re hitting the man’s prostate  _—_ _though, going by his sounds, he is _—__  because it’s not about that right now.

His eyes threaten to roll back into his head, and he bites down on his lip, fingers moving in patterns he hardly notices, using his grip on Jim’s body to fuck into him, time after time, seeking his own release only.

Everything fades away, the sounds of Jim panting and moaning, the music outside the restroom, even his own breathing, and conscious understanding of time. He embraces the steady sound of his heart pumping blood through his system, letting it carry him towards his end, one thrust at a time, measured and heavy; and he can only faintly tell every time Jim’s arse clenches around him.

It gets tighter in spurts, like it’s trying to milk an orgasm out of him, and he twists, falling forward into his last few thrusts, digging his teeth as deep as they’ll go into the nearest patch of skin.

He doesn’t care what sounds Jim makes when he comes inside the man, eyes still shut, hips still grinding into him to push as much of his semen further into the man’s body. His lips feel dry, his face hot and wet, and he collapses onto Jim.

_“Fuck,”_  he moans, after his body has stilled, and the white has cleared from the corners of his eyes. “That was- _fuck.”_

“Ow,” his bliss is interrupted, by elbows knocking back against him. “Get the fuck off me, you fat bastard.”

He has to laugh, the only sound that’ll come out, and he stumbles back, eyes shooting down to Jim’s arse as he pulls out from it. With pleasure, he watches the hole clench around open air, white dribbling out from it in spurts. It looks perfect like that, and he grins, licking his lips wetly.

It only lasts for a few seconds, before Jim turns, directing a glare at him.

“What?” he exclaims, and then Jim is on him, knocking him onto the floor.

“Fuck you,” the man hisses into his mouth, digging his teeth and lips in deliciously. It’s not arousing, but it’s blissful in its own way, lifting a hand to Jim’s head to stroke his hair, accepting the viciousness of the kiss for what it is.

He feels the hardness against his hip, and he’s got to laugh at himself. _“Aww,”_  he croons, and a hand goes down, to press into the bruises he left along Jim’s side. “Didn’t ya get t’come?”

“Jus’ get me off, you twat,” Jim growls at him, “or I’ll do it over your dead body.”

“Yeah, yeah, all right,” he smacks his lips contentedly, hooking a leg to turn them over, Jim back underneath him. “No need t’get your knickers in a twist, boss.” He could bite into the man again, worsen the already ridiculous bruises lining the man’s neck and front, but there’s something about it that feels like he’d taint them.

Instead, he brings their lips together again, licking into Jim’s mouth, two fingers hooking into the man’s arse. He goes straight for Jim’s prostate, digging into it with everything he’s got, fingers squelching as fluid leaks out onto his hand.

“ _Aww, boss,_  I gotcha all dirty.” He smirks, swallowing the noises Jim wants to release, a skillful hand circling his cock, twisting with every upstroke.

It only takes five before Jim comes, keening into his mouth.

_“Fu_ ck,” it’s his turn to say, head falling back with a thump, body going limp underneath Sebastian.

“Yeah, tol’ ya so.”

“Fuck off,” but the vehemence in it is missing, and they both laugh at themselves. 

“Y’gonna clean up my come, too?” he has to ask. He catches the fingers from the hand that slaps him between his lips, nibbling on the tips until they’re pulled away. “Point taken.”


End file.
